


i hate the phantom thieves, they make me talk to my crush for intel and yell go detective boy go

by ez_cookie



Series: New Game + sans Akira [4]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: M/M, New Game +, bc of yaldabaoth fucking around, but everyone EXCEPT akira remembers, goro is a gay disaster, they remember once they awaken their persona and akira hasn't yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ez_cookie/pseuds/ez_cookie
Summary: The Phantom Thieves, led by a very-reluctant Goro Akechi, are running out of time to take down Shido. The election is coming up, and they need Joker. Unfortunately, Akira can't remember the last timeline, since some mysterious force has kept him out of the Metaverse since April. The thieves need a plan of action. So naturally, they send Goro in to embarrass himself.NEW GAME + SANS AKIRA AU
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: New Game + sans Akira [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147535
Comments: 30
Kudos: 373





	i hate the phantom thieves, they make me talk to my crush for intel and yell go detective boy go

**Author's Note:**

> For more information about this AU, please check out the series description!

Goro was surprised that Sakura let him stay after closing, as he hadn’t been frequenting LeBlanc as often in the current timeline as he had in the last. It was a consequence of having, against all logic, an even more tightly packed schedule. For months he’d been juggling school, cram school, work, Shido’s work (or rather, snaking his way out of doing Shido’s work while delaying his imminent assassination as much as possible), interviews, leading the Phantom Thieves, and, most surprising of all, spending time with people his age (he refused to call them friends, he didn’t deserve that). He simply didn’t have the time to spend hours in the quaint, warm coffee shop, reading a book simply for pleasure or indulging in some fantastical domesticity while he breezed his way through schoolwork. And he didn’t want to see Akira too often. They could be acquaintances, and they could be friendly with each other, but seeing him anywhere outside of the cafe, out of comfortable, predictable boundaries, was out of the question. Not until he remembered everything, anyway. 

Yet, here he was, at the suggestion of his teammates, no less. The plan they had devised was to lure Akira to the roof of Shujin (a well-known hangout spot for one Ryuji Sakamoto), where they all would get the jump on him, hold him down, and force him into the metaverse so he could awaken his Persona, get his memories back, and stop slacking off and take the lead of the group  _ he founded  _ that Goro was stuck babysitting in his absence.

The plan was banking on the fact that Akira would know Ryuji was a Phantom Thief, but Goro knew Akira would have to know at least that much. Sakamoto was hardly subtle, and if Akira could notice Goro using his non-dominant hand after one game of pool, he could figure out where to find the Phantom Thieves. Goro was sure of it. 

It was all to be carried out the following day. They were running out of time to stop Shido before the election, after all. The bait was going to be a calling card. That seemed to be the best strategy from all angles. The only point of contention was what they ought to write on the card that would make Akira angry enough to seek out the Phantom Thieves in person. Sakamoto had suggested writing about Akira’s status at school as a criminal delinquent, but Goro had pointed out that Akira was not what his student body said he was, and thus, would have nothing to fear when faced with such accusations, even in the form of an imposing calling card. 

So, Goro was supposed to be here to find out what made this strange, lone-wolf Akira tick. But after a long day of running around, completing work he had already done, and metaphorically beating down his “friends” and their requests for his time with a stick, he wanted little more than to enjoy a cup of his preferred blend and pick Akira’s brain like they used to. 

He didn’t want to talk to Akira with a hidden agenda, even if he knew Futaba was listening and had joked about making a “listening party” out of it. He’d just suggest they write “meet us on the roof” on the calling card and not needlessly complicate things for the sake of dramatics.

Honestly, Akira’s bad influence of style over logic was still fucking the Phantom Thieves over, even in his absence. It was why Takamaki, Sakamoto, and Kitagawa had almost gotten themselves killed in Maderame’s palace. 

Goro sighed to himself as he accepted the cup of coffee that Akira passed him. Goro thanked him, and Akira cracked a small, but clearly genuine smile in response. 

The coffee was good, but not nearly as rich and tantalizing as it had been the last time Akira had prepared this blend for him, back in the other timeline. He could chalk it up to poor memory, but something told Goro that Sakura hadn’t been taking the time to mentor Akira like he had last time. Though abrasive at first, Goro knew Sakura was a kind man, and the easy smile he gave Akira before locking up indicated that he bore the teenager no ill will. It was more likely that Akira had simply given up on reaching out to anyone without his band of friends at his side. 

Goro was right, he supposed, when he’d angrily asserted in the past that his rival was nothing without his precious friends beside him. The satisfaction that usually came from a correct deduction never came. 

“What do you think of the Phantom Thieves?” Goro asked. He ran one gloved finger around the rim of the mug, watching the steam dance. 

“Bunch of assholes,” Akira mumbled.

_ Well, I can’t say I disagree,  _ Goro mused. 

“I don’t  _ hate  _ them or anything,” Akira said. “Uh, sorry. I know you’re against them and all on TV, but I don’t think anything they’re doing is bad. Changing the hearts of criminals, and all that. But I’m not about to buy myself Phantom Thieves merchandise when I show up on their stupid poll site requests every week.”

That was news to Goro, though he supposed it made enough sense, considering Akira had a record and no close friends to dispel rumors that he was a dangerous loner. He suspected that the lowlife who ran the site simply didn’t forward Sakamoto those requests after they were surely denied the first time. 

“You’ve been requested?” Goro asked conversationally. “Why is that?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Akira said. His grin had a razor-sharp edge. “I’m a  _ criminal _ .”

“Is that right?” Goro said. Had it been the previous timeline, when they knew each other so well, yet not at all, he would have plastered on an innocent smile and reassured his rival that there was simply  _ no  _ way he could be a criminal. He settled on a far more honest, tight smile instead. 

The truth of the matter was that despite the fact that Goro had bought into the image of himself as the perfect duplicitous actor, Akira had managed to crack through his masks little by little and catch a glimpse of his real face. Right before he died, at least. And as that bulkhead door was closing and Goro had resigned himself to his fate, he’d been thinking of Akira and  _ wanting _ like he’d never wanted before. He wanted to be someone worthy of being Akira’s rival. He just wanted to have one fucking honest conversation with him. 

But here they both were again, and despite everything, Goro still couldn’t say all that he wanted. More deceit slipped into his words like a hand into a familiar glove. 

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me what I did?” Akira said. He picked up a dish towel and began wringing it in his hands thoughtfully. 

“Not if you’re unwilling to tell me,” Goro said carefully. “A person’s past is their business. I hardly want to force you into sullying my opinion of you at the genesis of our relationship.” Goro took a sip of his coffee, doing his best to wipe the image of Akira’s blood-stained forehead and lifeless grey eyes out of his mind. “Doing what you can to present your best self is only natural.”

“I don’t suppose you looked me up, did you, Mr. Detective?” Akira teased. 

Goro dropped his gaze to the counter. He had, back in the other timeline, shortly after he’d met Akira properly in the TV station. An assault charge. Records that were sparse at best, the plaintiff entirely redacted. A false charge, obviously. Goro had figured that even before he had learned just how deep Akira’s ridiculous hero complex ran. 

“I have,” Goro answered honestly, surprising himself. “Assault. You stated in court that a man was forcing himself on a woman, you intervened, and he fell on his own.”

“That’s what I said alright,” Akira agreed.

“The plaintiff clearly was someone influential who made sure the trial was expedited and you were found guilty without question,” Goro continued. “It seemed that the woman in question did not testify, so she was likely intimidated. From your file alone, I could tell that this was simply a case of a well-intentioned teenager pissing off the wrong man.”

Akira sighed and started lazily scrubbing at the counter with the rag in his hand. 

“Yeah. It’s not fair.”

“Life seldom is,” Goro said, knowing full-well that the platitude would ring hollow. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” Akira said immediately. Goro’s eyes shot up to meet Akira’s. Even behind his glasses and raven fringe, that expression was so wholly  _ Joker  _ that Goro lost his breath for a moment. Something deep in his chest fluttered with excitement. He shouldn’t have expected less from his rival. Even without the support of his friends, his justice hadn’t wavered yet. 

“Even though that choice has earned you a year’s worth of suffering and a mark on your record?”

“It mattered to that woman,” Akira asserted. “At least...I hope it did.” Goro said nothing. Even though Goro knew he was improving, knew he was learning to deal with his anger, the demon inside of him clawed and thrashed with anger at  _ Kurusu’s goddamn righteousness _ . Did he not care about his own suffering? What was it about Akira that compelled him to break off pieces of himself for others, not giving a shit if there was nothing left of himself at the end of the day? Did he not even see his own worth?

Idiot.

“It means a lot, um…” Akira started. “It means a lot to me. That you believe me. Everyone at school sees me as a criminal. The rumors were kind of funny at first, you know? Saying that I was a drug dealer or that I murdered someone in my hometown. Or that I carried around a loaded gun with me. Like, why would any teenager need to carry around a loaded gun?” 

Goro had a loaded gun in his attaché case.

“But it’s not funny anymore,” Akira said grimly. “My parents haven’t called once since I left home. None of my old friends from Inaba want anything to do with me. No one at Shujin will even look at me, and the ones who do…” Akira made an odd expression and shook his head.

Ann, Makoto, Ryuji, and Haru were clearly not being as subtle as he’d instructed. 

“Wait!” Akira said suddenly. “You’re a detective.”

“...is this news to you?” Goro asked.

“No, no,” Akira said, waving his hand dismissively. “I just realized that I can ask you for your professional opinion on something. I’m being stalked.”

Ann, Makoto, Ryuji, and Haru were  _ definitely  _ not being as subtle as he’d instructed.

“Stalked,” Goro repeated, since he couldn’t trust himself to say a lot more without peppering his speech with several choice swears. 

“Yeah, though I couldn’t guess why,” Akira admitted. “It started at the beginning of the year with this guy who was also supposed to be a delinquent and this girl Takamaki who models. They both cornered me and were acting… not mean, really, but very aggressive? They’ve claimed that we’re friends, even though I’ve never really talked to either of them. They’ve recently recruited the student council president too — she’s been following me around while pretending to read a magazine. And I think they’ve all tried to kidnap me. I actually think they’ve tried a few times.”

“That’s...troubling,” Goro said. His phone pinged in his pocket. He smiled apologetically as he checked it. He had a text from Futaba. 

Futaba: ann says they aren’t stalkers or kidnappers ┌( ಠ_ಠ)┘

Futaba: ryuji wants to know if youve kidnapped anyone b4

Goro sighed in exasperation. It seemed they all were serious when they said they’d be staying over at Futaba’s to “listen in”. 

Goro: I have not.

Futaba: tell him to make friends (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑ turn the tables on him mwehehe

“Get me some evidence,” Goro said as he pocketed the phone, feeling one of his real smiles, more an unattractive smirk than anything desirable, slice its way across his face. “We’ll take them down.”

“Aw, you promise?” Akira said, his voice taking on a light quality once again. 

“They’re clearly up to no good,” Goro said. He paused to take another sip of coffee. “Why else would either of them want to be  _ your  _ friend?”

“Hey!” Akira protested. “You’re my friend. Aren’t you?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, I suppose,” Goro said.

“You are  _ so  _ mean sometimes, I swear,” Akira said, shaking his head. Goro tilted his head in a practiced motion that he knew would make his hair cascade just so, and winked at Akira cheekily. 

Akira laughed softly to himself, a sound that Goro found he had missed a lot. He hadn’t heard Akira sounding happy since the casino and then… all that followed. Goro swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ignore the way his heart clenched at the prospect of hearing that sound again. But he knew he had to cherish it now, while Akira still considered him a friend. While he was still the Goro Akechi in Akira’s mind who would never really hurt anyone, least of all his dear  _ friend.  _

Goro looked down at his reflection in the liquid in front of him. He felt disgusted with himself many times a day, but that particular moment was one of the most potent ones he’d had in a while.

“Akechi-kun,” Akira said suddenly. Goro looked up from his coffee and studied Akira’s expression. Even though this version of Akira Kurusu had yet to set foot in the metaverse and unlock his potential as the collector of endless masks, he still possessed his trademark, uncanny ability to be entirely unreadable when he desired, even to someone as observant as Goro. His eyes were nearly completely hidden under his mop of hair and the glare of the cafe light against his glasses. 

“What is it?” Goro asked. While he had the patience for mind games, as he was a veteran player, he knew the rest of the Phantom Thieves were likely growing restless. 

“Would you like to go out on a date sometime?”

It took all of Goro’s lifetime worth of training himself to perfection to suppress the impulse to spit out his coffee. He held himself together for a few agonizing seconds as he carefully swallowed the bitter coffee and took a breath.

_ Fuck. What the fuck. What.  _

Almost immediately, Goro’s phone began buzzing incessantly with messages. They came in at such an alarming rate that they could have been easily misconstrued as a singular ring that indicated a proper phone call instead of what was, in reality, an influx of messages in the Phantom Thieves group chat. The noise and vibration did nothing to clear Goro’s mind, which was running a mile a minute and gaining no traction one way or the other.

“Do you need to get that?” Akira asked. 

Goro blinked, confused. 

“The phone? No. No.”

“It could be your work though--”

“It’s not important!” Goro spit out harshly. Akira’s eyes widened slightly at the outburst, but he didn’t falter. Feeling more than a little stupid and embarrassed, Goro counted to ten in his head. He felt childish, but in a situation as… as…  _ batshit _ as the one he had found himself in, he would take whatever lifeline he could get.

“So… uh,” Akira said. “Date? Yes? No?”

“That’s…” Goro tried. “That’s not a good idea.”

Akira didn’t know what he was asking. He didn’t know  _ who  _ he was asking. 

_ It’s not real. It’s not real. _

Goro steeled himself. He had to calm down and start thinking logically. Akira wouldn’t be asking him… that… if he remembered. This wouldn’t have happened in the previous timeline, and even in this timeline, Akira was clearly grasping at straws when it came to human connection. Goro couldn’t afford to be swayed -- not with Akira. Though Goro supposed that by being here at all, playing nice with his rival, he was setting Akira up for what was essentially a second betrayal once his memories returned. 

No, he refused to deceive Akira. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Akira said seriously, interrupting Goro’s quickly descending and spiraling train of thought. “Just...reject me if you’re going to. I don’t want things to be weird between us because...well...you’re kind of the only person in Tokyo who’s been nice to me.”

Goro didn’t even know how to begin wrapping his head around that, so he elected to ignore it. It wasn’t like it was true. Statements made under false pretenses had no value. 

“Is… that so.”

“Please don’t stop coming around for coffee.”

Akira wouldn’t look him in the eye anymore, but there was something raw in his expression. Goro shifted his shoulders in discomfort. He recognized that panic, he realized. The despair that arises in anticipation of losing something dear. Goro had seen it in Akira’s eyes, briefly, right as the bulkhead door closed him in with his murderous cognitive double on Shido’s ship. 

For some foolish reason, Akira didn’t want to lose Goro Akechi, supernatural hitman and professional liar. Completely illogical and ridiculous, but to expect anything else of Akira Kurusu would be laughable. 

Goro checked his watch. He couldn’t stay much longer if he wanted to leave before the trains stopped running for the night. His escape was guaranteed when he was armed with that excuse, but he couldn’t very well steal away without giving Akira an answer, no matter how badly he wanted to. That option would probably be one of the kinder things he could do, ruining Akira’s image of him all on his own before any memories could. 

Maybe being the leader of Akira’s brainless group of Phantom Thieves was beginning to affect his own intelligence. 

“Ask me again tomorrow,” Goro said. He stood up from the booth and placed the proper payment on the counter. Then he added, coldly, “If you still want to, at that point.”

“Do  _ you  _ want me to?” Akira asked softly. Goro fidgeted with his gloves, still ignoring the influx of messages making his phone leap in his pocket. 

“...it doesn’t matter what I want,” Goro said. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Goro Akechi made a tactical retreat. He shut down his phone and let the thick silence of the night on his commute home be a silent vigil for the version of himself that Akira wanted that would die with the following day’s truth. 

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment if you liked whatever this was salfbdsjfkbaskjfdsa
> 
> check out the rest of the series [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147535)!
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](https://franzy-vonkarma.tumblr.com/)!


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